


Lips fueled by arsenic

by Delitheunicorn



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Spectacular Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Dark Romance, F/M, OC X CANON, villian romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29628966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delitheunicorn/pseuds/Delitheunicorn
Summary: She yearned, he hesitated, and he...He just wanted to have fun.
Relationships: Norman Osborn/OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Lips fueled by arsenic

**Author's Note:**

> I've always crushed on Norman for ages and I feel so completed to finally write something where I could live out my "fucking Norman Osborn fantasies" without people calling me out for the creepy ship I might have. Yeah, I created a bimbo wife just for him. ;)
> 
> AU based on different Spidey-man stuff, but mostly an aged up AU of the Spectacular Spider-Man version.
> 
> Also if you're wondering, Randa looks like Natalie Dormer when blonde (of course, stylized into the SSM / Tim Sale Spider-man Blue look). I figured Norman's bimbo would look like a classy, refined lady.

27…28…29…30… _Done._

He panted as he released down the weight. There, that would be enough for tonight. He admitted he would usually push up to hit the 60s, but he imagined he was allowed to slug every now and then.

Well, one more night of workout finished. One more day he could add on to his life.

Randa was waiting in bed once he returned to the bedroom, occupied with a crossword journal in her lap. She purred as she turned to look back at him. _Hmm_. He figured she would react like that. His bare chest was her soft spot, often. _Even the scars she finds kissable._

“Norman, darling…!” He ignored her extended hand and turned towards the computer. He had to finish the agreements for the experiments.

“All done for tonight.”

“Hmm, you’re getting ripped pretty fast.”

“Hm. At least for today, I finished the basics.”

“Work as well?”

“I have some papers to finish for tomorrow. Sign a contract here, approve Oscorp’s investment in this new project…”

But he could tell she was dozing off. She loathed work chatter so much…Better for him, overall. She wouldn’t need to know about his little deals with Thompson or the like.  
  
“Come to bed, my love…”

“…Oscorp cannot wait.”

“It’s not good for the brain to work at night. There are medical studies that showcase the secondary effects.”

He paused as he sat down in the office chair.

“Are you a doctor by any chance, Randa?”

“I have the curiosity of one.”

“I’ll believe that when I see your doctorate.”

“Would this help you?” She was calling for him, if he didn’t attend her she would be squeamish the whole night long.

And as soon as he turned, her nightgown was covering the floor. _Ah, right on queue._ Randa thought herself to be a magician, with her own set of tricks that would bedazzle Norman. A flash of a skirt here, a quip there, a grin there…And her breasts, of course, jiggling…

And of course, if Norman noticed it, _he_ did even more. The nights where Randa called for Norman were even harder, for he tried his best to control the Goblin from coming out and ravage the girl and the entire room. Yet, did Norman wish that? Would Randa appreciate that? Then again, she squealed like a pig whenever he was rough, so maybe she’d be in heaven if left to his green, scaled arms… _You’ll have fun at least, fun you haven’t had in twenty years._

“Not tonight.”

“I could maybe help you…Calm your self…Sooth the demons…” She slid over him, wrapping him in a cold embrace; her arms sliding down his chest.

 _You wish._ She was feeling brave, he ventured. Maybe the wine had flooded her with unwanted courage. _Silly girl._ Yet, yet, the way her lips pursed as his finger drew over them…

And those breasts…

Her eyes were pierced on him, as he laid her on the bed, as he took her and pushed her. Her eyes never left his figure, barely if ever closed, as he took and rode her through the rest of the night. Cold, still…But alive.

He still recalled the night he first came to know her. The mindless chatter, the champagne overflowing amidst the guests’ glasses, and her; with her long, golden curls bouncing over her shoulders. Those dark blue eyes, and that mischievous smirk that hinted at something more…

“Madame, it’s an honor to meet you.”  
  
“The honor is mine…”

Well, his first impression was in general positive. _She’s pretty, at least_. And she didn’t shy away, expecting him to make the first step. Good, good. He was never one for blushing dames.

“It’s quite crowded in here…”

“I can give the order, and we can find a private room.”  
  
“Oh, that sounds attractive, but maybe not today. We still might need, uh, the light of the others.”

Still, after dancing, that gave them incentive to move to the balcony, away from intrusive eyes and ears. On the top of the skyscraper, Norman usually felt like a god, but tonight, he would need to humble himself to talk with her.

“I want to know all about the famous Norman Osborn.”

Secrets, secrets, secrets. Everyone thinks they can handle them, but very few can actually admit controlling them.

“And you must be the famous…”

“Myranda. Miranda Sielger, if you will.”  
  
“Myranda…Parents were thespians, I imagine.”

“Well- ” she giggled. “Mama and papa always have had a soft spot for high culture…But now, surely you must know about Francis Sielger?”

“…Oh, _Sielger Touch_? The Women’s Underwear and Nightwear company?”

She nodded. He figured such a voluptuous woman would be related to a company mostly in charge of mass-producing bras.

“Grandpa started the business, but dad and his brothers helped it expand. Luckily, the women in our household are always well-dressed.”

 _And undressed._ But he stood silent, and rocked his glass back and forth.

“Hmm.”

“Dad was invited, but he thought it well to bring me as well. The sooner I would get to know the finesse of the city, the better I imagine.”

“Yes, I presume so. A young, elegant lady as you…”

“And get to know many gentlemen and ladies of the high class…It’s always good to network, when it comes to our circumstances. Tall men, rich men, small men…You seem-”  
  
“I have a son.”

“You do? Oh, I never knew that!”

Was she teasing him, or was Myranda genuinely curious? Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt this time to tell the truth, he guessed.

“Yes, Harry, soon enough he’ll be starting college.”

“It’s so engaging to see such a successful man like you still have time to care for your son amidst all your business and successful inventions and investments. It’s sweet, in a way, nowadays so few men dedicate time to care for their children…”  
  
“Yes, quite a tearjerker.”

She seemed younger than him, but much older than Harry. Well, Harry was nearing his 20s, so almost anyone Norman could find appealing to talk to would naturally be much older than his son.

“But of course, I imagine being a father is just one of your achievements. Your long, proud history of how you raised Oscorp from the ground…! So few men can boast about the strength and luck that you had throughout your life…The courage, the persistence…”

She was by his side, at times carefully laying a hand on his arm, other times the hand would fly back to the glass. Like a perky bird, she would plop down to peck at the seeds, and then runs cautious to her nest.

Usually, he wouldn’t have taken mind with such a foolish girl. But the night was long, and the more the two talked, the more Norman felt at ease…And the more the Goblin was invested.

Yes, he felt him, he bulged, he growled, he muttered, and if he could, he would rip the suit to shreds and come out. And Norman noticed how her curves seemed to drive the monster to even more franticness than before. He thought he had managed to control him, at least as long as the dosis of the formula was in check, but the stupid woman just couldn’t stop jiggling her breasts…Damn her, damn her.

Of course, he guessed Randa wouldn’t notice. She just giggled throughout the rest of the night, and spoke of her family’s vast fortune, of the countries she visited, of her studies in political science and work in international organizations, and would lick her lips whenever she stole a sip from her glass. Then every so she would casually lay a hand over his arm, again and again, a cat delighted to scratch her post.

“You seem to be full of secrets, Mr. Osborn.” She said once the clock hit midnight. She laid a long finger on the tip of her glass. “Then again, it is rare for a man of your success to be where you are… without a few secrets, a few acts here and there.”

“No man is born lucky in life, and the world doesn’t gift you your wishes. If you have to wring a few necks along the way to bring bread to the table…” He shrugged. If she wanted to have a pity party about his poor little life, then she was interviewing the wrong man.  
  
“That is certain, my good sir.” Her catlike eyes didn’t leave his figure. “You can’t venture in this world being so naïve. Sometimes, it’s attractive, I admit, but then I wonder, is that what we really want?”

 _I know what I want, ohhoho…_ Crap, he figured _he’d_ come up sooner or later. Norman imagined, rather predictably, what would be his interests with Randa. Of course, his latent bulging in the last hours made it quite easy to guess.

“Men are never satisfied with their lives. Women even less.”

“And are you satisfied, Mr. Osborn?”  
  
“That depends.”

“A man of your power…Or your wealth…Can achieve anything he may want at this point. You have the entire city of New York at your hand.”

“Oh, speak a little louder, miss Myranda, so the police take me in as a possible suspect in the crime ring.”

“Oh…Oh no…” She giggled. “Crimelords usually aren’t as…refined as you are.”

A pale, stick-long linger slew down his suit. Her eyes reflected back the night sky of New York City.

He couldn’t recall the rest of the conversation that night, only how her red dress flew down to the tiled floor, and how the sounds and chatter of the guests covered up her screams as he took her over and over inside the bathroom, until the sweet sigh came to him.

He would object to the incident later on; in fact, he began with that the very next time he met her. But she insisted, pesky girl that she was, and soon enough they met in cafes, in stores, in art galleries…And then she would be bending over tables every now and then. He would push down her head, hold her hair, and bend down with her, back and forth, until the release would come. _Sweet._ And just for that, the meetings became more bearable for him.

Just one night, as they lay in his bed, with the city lights painting them over…

“Norman, let me move here.”

“This way is enough.”

“I want to be with you. My family wouldn’t object.”

_Your family would sell you for a dowry._

But, would it be a problem? She wouldn’t have trouble accommodating herself to the duplex, and knowing her priorities would spend the afternoon at her father’s nearest lingerie after a good trip of the credit card near Fifth Avenue. He would only need to be at her beck and call for the night…

And if could fool the entire population of New York City for the Goblin to roam free, surely he could trick her.

And, well, even amidst it all, he guess it would be less of a hassle to fuck her in his own house than in the bathrooms of the theater or the opera house.

Plus, he wasn’t the only one fantasizing about her figure in meetings. At night, the Goblin would urge him to call her, and as the days passed, his suggestions were even more outrageous.

_No, I will not take her away on the glider. **Maybe later, once you’ve softened up…**_

No. Even he had to realize how childish and insane the prospect sounded.

But, he finally decided on it, after a night where the two of them talked a little over 3 hours over a cup of coffee. He would prefer the privacy of his hall and kitchen over any overstuffed cafeteria, anyhow.

Of course, once the news spread, Harry objected; but since when did Harry’s word matter? The boy would gnarl, but the decision was taken.

“Dad, I dunno, it feels wrong, mom just left…” He began one night after dinner.  
  
“We made our choice, and took our own paths in life. I’m sure she’s also found a new man to be with. No need to be miserable single.”

“But, don’t you think it’s a little too soon?”

“I don’t consider “two years” soon.” He looked back at his son. “I figured you’d approve of her, considering your girlfriends look similar to her.”

“What? No! No, the hair has nothing to do with it.”  
  
“So?”

“I dunno, she’s pretty young, and…”  
  
“And?” He hated guessing games.

“…Kinda trashy.”

His mouth betrayed him, and a sudden laugh sprouted out from him.  
  
“Well, It’s a good thing you won’t bed her then. This time daddy won’t share.”

“That’s not wh- ew, dad!”

 _Let him gnarl, in a few months he won’t be a problem for you_. The sooner he got that shared apartment with Peter, the better. Perhaps this would be the golden opportunity Harry needed in his life. _Finally makeup after years of mediocrity? Don’t be foolish, Norman._ Peter was gifted, but he could not perform miracles.

Two months later, Myranda moved onto their apartment as swift as a breeze of fresh air. And precisely, she made herself at home the first night. Chatting with Harry, cozying up to Norman, even attempting to get a chuckle out of James. She would prance around the hallways and made scathing observations about the decoration. She would invite her friends over for coffee and afternoon chatter, and spend the nights trailing patterns in his scarred back. She loved those scars so much, to tap them and follow them…

“I would’ve never imagined to be marveled by such detailed architecture…But even I must admit, you certainly live up to be a king, Norman.” She began one morning, as the two brewed over their coffee.  
  
“If the luxuries are affordable, then I say spend them.”

She smirked as he took his coffee. That pesky smirk never left her face, even as they continued making love in every corner of the apartment.

It didn’t take long, but he figured she was faking half the time. Well, her moaning would be a nice distraction, it had been some time since he had pleasured any woman. Pleasured himself, more like.

The next night, after their pleasure; as it was his turn to be busy with the crossword, she ventured into his thoughts. They both laid splayed out in bed, with only the night sky as their sheets.

“Norman…Marry me.”

 _Strange wording_. His pen lingered for a minute in the air as the demand caught him off guard.

“I won’t die for a long while. Your security net will take a while to get here.”  
  
“I’m also folded in money. If I want more, I can simply go to the bank.” She placed a hand over his. “This is more than money.”  
  


“…Ah.”

She dropped her head to the side, her eyes nailed on his hand.

“It should be good for us to officialize our relationship, after all, we’ve been a long time, some couples wait even less…”

She paused, expecting a reply, but it never came. Never the less, she continued.

  
“After all, if we have this long, loving relationship…”

“Love?”

“Why not? You’re southern, you’re a billionaire, you command an entire committee of top scientists and engineers for your industry…You’re a catch!”

“…Since when am I southern?”

“Oh, it could be an attractive trait. Still, you can see why I fell in love.”

_Love is for children._

“Please, Norman, this would benefit us so much…”

 _…Well, she’d be nice to show off in parties at least._

Also, this was not a secret worth keeping. The day the cards would come crumbling down, his affair with this woman would not be found amidst the glider and the mask.

And so, the word was out, enough for the gossip column in the Bugle to write a trite little story about their “chance” encounter, for Randa to giggle and chat her way around the office. Jameson came forward and congratulated him, as boisterous as ever, but Norman just passed by all these moments. All this bells and whistles, it wasn’t as if a marriage would occur.

No, not yet. Emily still peaked under his mind, even if he had tried everything in his power to forget her. Which wasn’t so hard, but still…

No, this was better. Marriage was an unneeded bother, and even Randa was satisfied enough with him fucking her every night. No need for such pomp.

One night, after the confirmation was given, Randa was reading intensely the newspaper.

“My, the crime scene in this city just keeps increasing.”

“That’s what you get of decades of decay and apathy from mayors and the police force.”

“But some of these criminals…They don’t even understand. And I’m not just referring to the mafia underworld, but all these wackos who dress in circus costumes…The Red Fly? The Blue Elephant? What is that? What is all of this?” She quickly tapped the newspaper. “A good psychologist might make a fortune analyzing them.”

“Oh, you’re thinking the million dollar idea, Randa. More than one gold digger has attempted to get rich by passing through the gates of Ravenscroft.”

“I’m not talking of con-mans and their old schemes, but genuine interest, genuine passion for what the mind can…If left to its own machinations…Unbound by fate…”

_And now she’s playing the part of the poet._

“You think man is so savage as to turn into a murderer once the world gives him the green light?”

“You know it better than me. You’ve seen men like that.” She rose from the bed and walked to the balcony. “Men can turn to wolves in a second, and left free from their leash, they can scorch the earth if they so wish.”

She turned to him, and her eyes darkened as they held glances. He was unperturbed, but the little voice of the goblin was starting to hum a tuneless song.

“True, but there’s a set of different factors that allow men to go wild. It’s a tale as old as the hills.”

“Maybe it’s our nature of hunters itching to climb out of us.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“You’ll go hunting again, right? With the boys?"

He shrugged. Now that he recalled, in a few weeks it’d be hunting season.

“Maybe one day I could accompany you…If It’s not a bother…"

“It’s not unusual. Rather I’m surprised It could attract _you_ of all people.”

“Girls have a large number of hobbies…”

She sat down at the edge of the bed, and looked at him pensively, almost tenderly. As if too awed to properly approach him.  
  
“Would you like to see me carrying a rifle, Norman?”

“…It might be attractive.”  
  
“…I could see why those super-beasts then feel so confident, to have the power to _kill_ in your hand, to never feel stepped on ever again by the rest of the world…As the deer watches bathed in blood before it gives its last breathes…”

_She knows, she absolutely knows._

“Come to bed.”

“You’re tired.”

“As you are.”

Knowing the truth always leaves exhaustion in one’s body, he figured.

And then, her mouth was on his, tasting, biting, holding. He jumped as well, not wanting to withhold, and took her. His lips tasted hers, the scent of mint and gin, and then as they traveled towards her neck, vanilla perfume started caressing his nose. She groaned as he kept hissing her chest and neck, while she took hold of his red curls and pushed him further. And her chest, her breasts, her trail that lead him down to her sex, as he kissed and kissed until she sighed, and then he took her, as he always did, pushing and gnashing until she cried. Stroking, again and again and again, until the two merged into one, and he finally sighed in relief.

Well, one more night, one more night where they could hold on, where fondness would grow. Or a feeble copy attempting to mimic fondness, he figured.

But a fortnight afterwards, _he_ came up. It was too tempting, whispers of the wall-crawler sprouted like mushrooms all over the alleys of Manhattan, and soon enough he took notice. No, no, what was Spidey thinking? That’d just sprung up without even allowing good little Gobby to pay him a visit? No, Spider-man was in the wrong if he could mistake Gobby for a fool. No, he wasn’t the Rhino or the other brutes whom his quips would be utterly lost on!

But, before the glider would take its flight upon the well-lit skies of New York, a golden figure caught his fancy. Of course, she’d be in the balcony. Of course she’d be alone.

And of course, he would have time to see her. Finally, Norman bulged and let him free, as he yearned for so long…!

“Hello, dearie.”

A gasp, the sound of broken glass shattering on the floor…You gotta love the classics, after all. A distressed, blonde damsel? Hell, yes.

“Randa…You look good enough to eat tonight…”

And based on her widened mouth, on how her eyes thirsted…He was _expected_. She knew, _of course_ she knew. Maybe she always did?

Regardless, he couldn’t be happier.


End file.
